These Are a Few of My Favorite Things...Right Now

Today, I am grooving on:

• Sarah McLachlan's WinterSong CD
• Portsmouth, NH
• presenting to and facilitating a group of committed, compassionate and engaged people
• my ACG jacket and Columbia Omni Heat boots purchased last year
• Crossfit MF
• winter light 
• the moon
• the crisp and seasonal weather

I Blame Daktari

Daktari  is one of the first television shows I remember watching.  Mostly, I remember Clarence the Cross-Eyed Lion and the Jeeps, Range Rovers, Land Cruisers.

In today's current state of affairs with gas costs and environmental concerns regarding traditional motor vehicles, I can't really justify having a vehicle like that of my own.  If I were more mechanically handy or had unlimited income, I would look into some of the specialized dealers in these type of all terrain vehicles that have been retro-fitted or designed to burn bio-fuels.  But alas...my auto-eroticism leads me to fantasies of Ford re-issuing their iconic first generation Bronco with a Prius-type engine at a $15k price tag.

Here are two photos taken in the last few weeks of vehicles I've seen around.  It's like porn for auto -philiacs.

Going Dust

This is my favorite poem.  It was in Yankee magazine years ago.  Apparently Yankee is my go-to source for poetry...I still remember a phrase from one poem, that I think, was about early spring...the sun picks at scabs of snow...


This one captures the beauty of this time of year so perfectly.  Enjoy.

GOING DUST

This is mine, this calm and modest
      twilight
When night begins early to filter
      between
The flaps of gray sky and the
       evergreen
Mocks the maple.  The kaleidscope
       plight
Of leaves, the cold end of summer
        roses, blight
On the garden that comes in the
       unseen
Hours of frost, to others, these things
       may mean
Sorrow:  to me, they are joy and joy
       outright.
I hope to die in such young November
 as this and be laid to rest under just
Such a sky, to finally, peacefully lie
In the scent of apples that will
        remember
How I gazed on them once, when
       going dust
Was a dream that living could not
       mortify.

-Paul Smithers, Cottontown, TN

I Dream of Slumber

Soule Mama recently posted a story about falling asleep in the woods. There is something that seems so decadent about napping, Rip Van Winkle-style, in the forest in the middle of a November day ablaze with sunshine.  It is beyond sad for me to think I am that far removed from the simple joys of following my cicadian rythym and my heart into the wild.

I have tasted the sweetness of a purloined cat nap out in the open.  I have fallen asleep lying scrunched up on the floor of my kayak. The waves lulling me to slumber much the same way they did when I was a child  under the decking on my parent's teal blue Starcraft run- about. I have slept soundly on a beach under an azure October sky near Mt. Blue among the tracks of raccoons, fox, and deer who had ventured to the lake for refreshment. That is one of my fondest memories actually.  It felt so ...good and familiar. Tired, rest. Rested, get up. No clock watching, no alarms, no schedule.

I have been taken with the notion of sleeping out in a snow trench in the back yard as soon as we get snow and I get a winter sleeping bag.  This idea was planted in my consciousness years ago by my gear- headed and happiest- to- be- sleeping -on -the -ground -in -the- unfettered- night -air best bud.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Here is a book by Rebekah Raye and a poem by Wendell Berry to inspire you to find your wild resting place.

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

Nearing Halloween

They say that on Halloween the veils between the worlds, this one and the next, thin.  This year, the veil between the seasons has thinned.  We had a nor'easter come in last night that left us with several inches of snow.  Even though it is still October and the time hasn't changed, the light seemed different tonight and the sound of snow crunching under foot was an unexpected joy.

All day, I have been visited in memory by ghosts of Halloweens past: Going with my father to the barber in Mayfield. The shop was in the A- frames.  I can smell the warm scent of the aftershave hanging  in the air and watch with anticipation the white-tails in the snow peering out from their life-sized wall mural framing the nook where the magazines were;  Riding in the snow in my uncle's red Willy Jeep behind the station.  The morning sun is bouncing off the snow and the bright sky as chains clank on the metal floor and I try to hold on to my seat located over the rear wheel.  Everyone's cheeks are as red as the paint on the vehicle; Excited to be in the "little school" Halloween parade,  marching down North Main Street  my blue winter coat with white faux fur fringe around the hood covering my costume. Snow flakes swirl in the air.  I am haunted and I am happy.

Jack the third, 2011

Playing in the snow, October 30, 2011

Trick or Treat?  Snow, October 29, 2011

Permaculture Transformation

We held a permaculture sheet mulching work party at our house this past weekend.  This sentence most likely needs decoding.  Permaculture is an approach to living that is focused on sustainability and connection. The word itself is a contraction of "permanent culture" and "permanent agriculture".  There are guiding design principles and attitudinal principles.  For example in the sheet mulching project we did, three main principles of permaculture design were key:  use small scale, intensive systems; optimize edge;  use biological and renewable resources A permaculture attitude reflected in our garden design is get a yield.  Sheet mulching is  composting in place and building soil in a similar manner to the way nature does it.  The benefits are many including weed suppression,  water conservation and maintenance
soil health and organisms.


The designer and skill facilitator was Dave Homa.  He led us in the design,  multiple steps and layers of laying out the key hole gardens and the furrows.  We used leaves, coffee grounds, seaweed,  newspapers, wood chips,  stone dust, cardboard, chicken and rabbit manure, woody plants, straw and compost.  The garden transformed from essentially a "weed bed" to an organized and optimized space for planting and pollinators.

More information about permaculture can be found at Portland Maine Permaculture.

BEFORE

Creating a starting point

Laying the outline of a key hole with material from the garden

List of  inputs

The Design

Adding the compost

Laying down the base for the paths

Straw on the beds and wood chips in the paths  complete the design

Fitness is intrinsic

I've noticed Maisie, at three and half, moves her body -ALOT.  But more importantly, she intuitively executes moves endemic to Crossfit and MovNat.  She jumps up and down, across over and off of things, she planks and bridges, she does dips, presses, squats, and pull ups and she can run...for a long distance and time. She also is into yoga. And she is ripped!  She has a six pack, calves and thighs and glutes that adults strive for and the cutest little biceps and deltoids.  She incorporates all this activity into her day in a natural and flowing way.  She eats based on her hunger-sometimes a bottomless pit, other days very light.
Last night, she was at a party where there was a small trampoline.  She was eager to show me her "new" move-essentially a pull up and knees to bar into a roll. After that she spent time in another room-spinning her body around and around and around...

I am trying to emulate her activity and verve.

Lunge!

Welcome to the gunshow!

Up on the Catwalk...Common Ground Fair Style

Cold Splinters did a piece for GQ about the most stylish environmentalists of all time.  Here is my contribution to the blogosphere;  The Cultivation of Organic Style-What Farmers Wear. 

bold facial hair

no shirt can be stylish

these boots were made for walking-the baby

floral motif

sometimes it's in the details-check out the belt

jewelry for men

If you like honey, I suggest you try to get your hands on some of Overland Honey's Ruby Red raw honey. It's a seasonal honey made from the pollen of Japanese Knotweed (bamboo).  It is the best!
I got mine at the Honey Exchange in Portland.

If Soule Mama has it...

Faux Mama wants it!

So, I got it!

Age and Being a Relative

I have recently been on a short diatribe about an incident at Storyland in NH. Essentially, I was mistaken for a "senior citizen" followed by disbelief that I was only 48.   The thing is, this is not an isolated incident.  On more than one occasion, I have been mistaken for my child's grandparent, my partner's parent and given a significant senior discount at Friendly's.

A friend of mine sent me a link to a CNN article that reflected the writer's process around being referred to as her child's grandparent.  The writer, a black woman, also wrote of being asked if she was the nanny.  I was asked once if I was auntie.  This query, coming after apparently being sized up as a gay woman who apparently could not possibly be an actual parent.

Being a grandmother in and of itself is not the issue.  It is the assumptive license taken by strangers.  Granted, not everyone has a child when they are 45. But not everyone has one when they are 16 either. The first time I was asked if I had any grandchildren, I was 35.  I was in shock.  But my cousin, by the time she was 35 was a grandmother 3 times over.  Of course, she had her first child at 16 and he had his at 19 (twins, more than one mother).

I think there is a disconnect between my perceived age and my self perceived age. I am not proud of my discomfort with the changes incurred with maturing.  After all, I am the same person who  wrote a paper in college stating "I am looking forward to the day when I will have a leathered, wizened visage". I appreciate my father-in-law, who used to introduce Maisie as his "little sister".  Of course, in his family his uncle is 17 years younger than his next sibling.

The best approach one gentleman took was asking if Maisie and I were related. When I said yes, he said he could see the family resemblance.  Suave.

Here are three things the wee one has said this summer that has made my heart sing with pride (and hope):

I wish it were snowing right now; what is Wal-Mart?; and to Mimi who was sitting with her, Come and see the carrots we froze for the winter.

Wedding weekend

the dancing queen 

hurry up and wait

One of my best and oldest friends got married this weekend.  I was the officiant. It was wonderful.  One of my favorite parts was the crowd dancing to Hava Nagila and hoisting my friend and her bride high in the air-made even more poignant by the vision of one of the bride's ex-husband exuberantly dancing and holding his ex-wife high in the air in total celebration.

I Stood up to Two Bullies...Why Do I Feel So Badly About It?

I was walking up the rocks from the water, toward the stairs to camp.  There were two loud and raucous boys catching crabs in the tide pools.  I heard one say  "Look at that big, fat lady".  Then more loudly and more taunting, "Look at her big butt.".  I was about 20 feet away from them.  I stopped, turned and addressed them in my most authoritative, adult voice, "Shut up."  I said.  I turned and continued toward the stairs.  The bigger one (10-ish) said "He said it,  pointing to his compatriot.  I replied, " I don't care who said it.  Don't say it all.  It's rude." I turned and came up the stairs.

I relayed the particulars of the exchange with great grammie.  She said, "Good.  They need to be spoken to."  I asked my partner if she heard any of the verbal fisticuffs.  She had not.  When she heard the particulars, she agreed with her grandmother.  I was expecting some leeway to be garnered the boys because of their age, but a 10 year old bully is on his way to being an adult one.  And, I am not a fan of the term "shut up", but in this instance it seemed fitting, because 1)  it was something a 10 year old would get and 2) it was precisely what I wanted them to do.

I hope they have thought about the incident as much as I have and I hope they change their behavior.  At the very least, I hope the older one gets the courage to call the other one out for his behavior instead of waiting for someone else to do it.

Homesick

There are certain days and times of day, even, when I am SO wistful for the place I grew up.  Today, this week actually, has been one of these times.

This is the group I wouldn't mind being in a shipwreck/airplane crash survivlist scenario with...

My 30th high school reunion was last weekend. For years, in my mind, I would recall memories of people from school or events and often think"When I see them again I will ask about that". It's like a LONG vacation and then we will all be back at school.  Occasionally, I would have dreams about being back in highs school and it was always so real to me. As the reunion approached the dreams became less pleasant-I was dreaming of getting to the event and either everybody would be so old looking I didn't recognize them or the other way around-I was the only who had changed. This was the first reunion I had known about in the thirty years since we graduated, so I felt very strongly about attending it.  Thank goodness for Face Book, as I had reconnected with several of my classmates and schoolmates.

I returned from the Friday night portion of the reunion and shared with my partner some of the events and impressions of the evening.  I didn't really think more about it while waiting for Saturday night's dinner portion of the weekend. At one point, my spouse was telling one of my classmates about my comments of the night before regarding everyone "was so nice".  She heartily concurred with this assessment upon meeting them for a few hours and went on to say that "nice' was not an adjective she would use to describe her reunion we attended two years ago.

In the past week, I have had time to reflect on the reunion.  And I am still struck with the niceness, familiarity, comfort and ease of being with these "kids".

Haute Couture

I have a confession. I love reading men's magazines. I have subscriptions to GQ and Details, but will buy Men's Health and Men's Journal frequently if I am jonesing for some input.  Originally it began as an obsession for the ads-Nautica, Hillfiger, Lauren, then stepped up to the cologne samples.  I take these out and put them strategically in my car (they are losing their efficacy though as D-O-G gets more odoriferous with age).  My next rung on the crack pipe of "style" is the grooming and " the style guy-Glenn O'Brien" pieces in these mags. (To be fair, GQ is also my go to source for political reporting) I am fascinated by the amount of history and attention to detail in these articles.  They say you become an expert at something if you read 100 books or something to that effect. I am certain I have absorbed that many GQ's alone.
The editors are always chastising men to establish and nurture a relationship with a fine tailor and to have your clothing fitted, even if you are not male model material. Ha! I thought.  Just more narcissism and pandering to the NYC crowd.  Well...I have to tell you I took a pair of white jeans to a new alteration shop near my home to be shortened. By the time she was done with me, we made the decision to shorten, taper and take in (to actual fit) the jeans to my body, of which I can VERY safely say is not model material. I walked out of there feeling like a million bucks-and I didn't even have the jeans!
Granted it did seem rather pricey when all was said and done, but the jeans cost $19 (LLBean) and with the additional fee, they will be about the price of a regular pair of higher end jeans with one notable exception -they fit ME!
I may have discovered a new obsession.

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

Oops!

I may not be fit to be a "chicken mama".   This evening, before supper, Maisie wanted to go to the coop to gather the eggs for the day and that is when we discovered I had forgotten to open the little door allowing  access to the coop from the pen. Which means they spent all day outside with no access to their water or nest boxes.  I remedied this straight away by opening the door and they charged in and slugged down water like foreign legionaires discovering an oasis.  Next is evidence illustrating why I might not be a fit "Maisie momma" either.  We discovered two eggs that had been laid under the ramp going from the pen to the coop. The pen is about 3 feet tall and, of course, where the eggs were located was on the far side from the opening that allows egress into the pen.  Maisie took this opportunity to embrace her budding super hero alter ego, stating "This looks like a job for me.  I can do it" (said with hands on hips and deep voice).
I agreed and we "prepped" her for the recovery of the eggs...rubber boots and winter gloves. I lifted her up and into the pen through the opening. And like the trooper she is, in she went and we retrieved the eggs.  The eggs were cracked, so Abby was the happy recipient of Miss Maisie's amazing super hero prowess. Maisie then entered a "Silkwood shower" process-stripped and scrubbed, during which, she thanked me several times for letting her climb in the chicken run.

In their freedom days, helping HE weed a flower bed.

The prison camp-I mean coop.

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

This photo obviously isn't from this week, but it was finally downloaded this week.  It is about 2 years old.

Gratitude Sunday

Taking a cue from some of the other blogs I read, here is an in the moment list of things I am ever so grateful for in my life...

the apple blossoms nearly ready to burst on the crab apple and old tree in the backyard
the light spring rain
good flannel shirts
Maisie leaning against me as I type
the taste of pistachios
Crossfit
reading
HE
seeing the cuteness of the D-O-G
people and places who inspire me and fill with me awe

I am in love with the world.

Technical Difficulties

I killed my Mac this week so there is no Friday Photo.  Sorry.

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)

A Birthday and Morbidity Compression

I celebrated a birthday this week. I realize this birthday has taken me one step closer to the end of the road versus the middle of the road (being optimistic).  It is difficult to remain blissfully in denial of mortality when the celebration is bookended by heart monitors, stress tests and cardiologist's visits. In an effort to lengthen the road and slow the pace to the finish, I have been exploring Crossfit, Paleo-diet, and the Primal Blue Print.  One concept, addressed on the Primal Blueprint site, I found compelling, is that of "morbidity compression".  Basically, the last 7-10 years of life, is spent in an increasingly debilitated state-lack of mobility, health, and vitality. Mark Sisson summed it up with "Spock said "Live long and prosper" but Grok says "Live long and die".  So, my new focus is to compress this time of morbidity and decline...stay healthy, vital, mentally intact, and mobile to a good ripe age and then croak. My epitaph, if I am lucky, will say " I was alive when I died. ".

A most important reason to "compress".

Friday Photo

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. (Inspired by Soule Mama)